13
He's gane hame to his father;
He speered for his son John:
'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.'
14
And whan he gaed hame to his sister,
She speered for her brother John:
'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.'
15
And whan he gaed home to his true-love,
She speerd for her lord John:
'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
And hame I fear he'll never come.'
16
'But whaten bluid's that on your sword, Willie?
Sweet Willie, tell to me;'
'O it is the bluid o my grey hounds,
They wadna rin for me.'
17
'It's nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,
Their bluid was never so red;
But it is the bluid o my true-love,
That ye hae slain indeed.'
18
That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,
That fair may mournd and pin'd:
'When every lady looks for her love,
I neer need look for mine.'
19
'O whaten a death will ye die, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;'
'Ye'll put me in a bottomless boat,
And I'll gae sail the sea.'
20
'Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;'
'Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,
And that will never be.'
E.
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60.